JOHN    JERNINGHAM'S 
JOURNAL 


A  Companion  Volume  to  John  Jerningham's  Journal. 

NOW  READY,  A  NEW  EDITION  OF 

MRS.   JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

ONE  VOL.  16x10,  IN  CLOTH,  75  CENTS. 

Sent  by  mail,  jost-paid,  by 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER  &  CO,,  654  Broadway,  N,Y, 


JOHN   JERNINGHAM'S 
JOURNAL 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES     SCRIBNER     &     CO. 
1871 


MORE  THAN  A  YEAR  AGO  Mrs.  Jerningham  put  forth  to 
the  world  the  experiences  of  her  early  married  life.  Mr. 
Jerningham  also  kept  a  diary  ;  and  extracts  therefrom  are 
given  in  the  following  pages.  As  they  refer  to  the  relations 
between  husband  and  wife,  their  mutual  action  and  re-action 
upon  each  other,  it  is  believed  they  will  be  of  interest  to  the 
general  public — especially  to  all  who  have  entered  into,  or 
are  about  to  enter  into,  the  holy  estate  of  matrimony. 


2133574 


JOHN   JERNINGHAM'S 
JOURNAL. 


PART  I. 

A  PLIANT  form,  a  pretty  face, 

An  airy,  fairy,  laughing  thing, 
That  moved  about  with  careless  grace, 

Like  little  bird  on  active  wing — 
A  sort  of  human  butterfly, 
Now  going  far,  now  hovering  nigh  ; 
Yet  still,  while  flitting  here  and  there 

And  smiling,  nodding,  talking  fast, 
So  sweet  her  smile,  so  gay  her  air, 

You  turned  to  watch  her  as  she  passed 
And  watching,  found  her  pleasant  look 
The  fairest  page  in  Natuie's  book. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL-. 

John  Jerningham,  don't  be  a  fool ! — 

More  weighty  matters  claim  your  thought, 
Attend  to  business,  as  you  ought ! 

Confound  the  thing  !   Neglect  your  rule — 
To  give  to  work  your  working  hours, 
To  concentrate  your  ablest  powers 

On  money,  prices,  shares,  and  stocks, — 

Because  a  girl  with  golden  locks 

And  scarcely  yet  escaped  from  school, 
Possessed  a  smiling,  pretty  face 
And  moved  about  with  airy  grace ! 


A  strong  man  swimming  up  the  stream 

Must  strike  out  bold,  and  never  flinch ! 
No  day  is  this  to  muse  and  dream  ; — 

The  stoutest  dare  not  give  an  inch  ! 
For  times  are  hard,  and  money's  tight, 

And  banks  as  sure  as  is  our  own 
Will  have  a  rather  stiflish  fight — 

And  which  shall  stand,  or  fall,  alone  ? 


JOHN  JERNINGHARTS  JOURNAL. 

And  we  have  been  most  madly  sold 
By  agents  of  our  house,  in  Spain, 

Who,  for  waste  paper,  drew  our  gold, 
Unmindful  too,  of  coming  strain  ; 


A  set  of  fools,  with  no  more  nous 

Than  he  who  trumps  his  partner's  ace  !- 
And  yet,  forsooth,  they  have  the  face 

To  think  them  useful  to  the  house ! 


'Tis  sad,  indeed,  if  house  depends 
Upon  short-sighted,  stupid  friends ; 
For  stupid  friends  hit  doubly  hard — 
They  take  a  fellow  off  his  guard  ! 


In  truth,  I  have  enough  to  do 

And  where  to  turn  I  scarce  can  tell ; — 
Nought  but  a  struggle  pulls  us  through  ! — 

They  said  her  name  is  Rosa  Bell. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

No  matter,  though,  whate'er  her  name, 
Or  where  she  goes,  or  whence  she  came  ! 


How  many  a  house,  that  had  been  thought 
As  certain  as  the  Three  Per  Cents, 

Has  by  the  sudden  blast  been  caught ! 
And  sore  surprise,  and  sad  laments, 

And  dire  distress  attend  its  fall. 
Such  ruin  lays  full  many  low, 
Who  can't  recover  from  the  blow; 

Who  rashly,  madly,  ventured  all  1 

On  business-men  'tis  hard  enough, 
But  they  can  bear  it,  so  to  speak, 

They  take  the  smooth  and  take  the  rough ; 
But  oh !  the  old,  the  young,  the  weak, 

My  heart  is  wrung  for  these ! — for  these, 

Who  drain  the  sorrow  to  its  lees! 


JOHN  JERNINGHARrS   JOURNAL. 

'Tis  not  to  them  a  business  strife, 
But  serious  throw  for  death  or  life, 
And  every  '  panic'  has  its  share 
Of  'dead  and  wounded,'  here  or  there  ! 

The  (  money-market,'  '  stocks,'  and  '  shares,' 
And  'steady,'  'falling,'  'strong'  or  'weak,' — 

Ah !   who  can  tell  the  hopes,  the  cares 
These  simple  words  to  thousands  speak ! 

And  so  it  must  be  still  while  gold 

To  measure  wealth  its  place  shall  hold. 


Why,  John,  what  is  the  matter,  man  ? — 
Give  way  like  this  I  never  can ! — 
In  every  place,  go  where  I  will 
That  smiling  face  pursues  me  still ! 

Though  many  pretty  girls  I  know 
There  ne'er  was  one  that  served  me  so ! 


12  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS   JOURNAL. 

How  can  it  be  ? — 'Tis  too  absurd ! — 
I  will  not  bear  it  on  my  word ! 

Come,  let  us  take  the  thing  in  hand — 
Let's  look  the  matter  in  the  face, 

High  time  it  is  to  understand 

The  bearings  of  so  strange  a  case ! 

I  meet  a  little  smiling  girl, 

In  years,  indeed,  she's  but  a  child, 
And  might  have  found  a  priceless  pearl ! — 

Such  nonsense  drives  one  almost  wild ! 
For  truly,  I  have  not  much  doubt 

This  pretty  girl's  a  silly  chit; 
I  should  not  fail  to  find  it  out 

If  I  could  study  her  a  bit. — 
When  work  is  slack,  and  I  am  free 
I'll  go  again — I'll  go  and  see. 

When  this  rough  time  is  tided  o'er 
I'll  run  away  from  town  once  more. — 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S   JOURNAL.  13 

I  half  engaged,  indeed,  to  spend 
My  holiday  with  that  old  friend, 
Where  first  the  pretty  girl  I  met, 
Whose  pleasant  laughter  haunts  me  yet. 


I4  JOHN  JERNINGHAMS   JOURNAL. 


The  fear  is  gone,  the  pressure  past, 
And  I  can  freely  breathe  again  ! 

A  strain  like  this,  it  could  not  last 
Or  man  could  never  bear  the  strain ! 

Well !   we,  and  others,  held  our  own. 

By  Jove  !  how  near  were  we  let  in  ! 
And  if  the  danger  had  been  known 

The  danger'  had  still  greater  been. 

If  we  had  failed  then  others  fell, 
I  thought  of  that  and  did  my  best, 

And  what  I  did — it  answered  well ! 
'Tis  over  now !  and  I  can  rest. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL.  15 


A  private  letter.     Oh,  I  see — 
Yes,  I  might  take  my  holiday, 

There  is  not  much  to  hinder  me  ; 
And  Johnson  writes  a  line  to  say, 

He  and  his  wife  expect  me  down 

When  I  can  get  away  from  town. 

Ah,  I  remember ! — I  had  meant 
On  their  kind  help  to  throw  myself 

When  I  was,  for  a  time,  intent 
On  studying  that  little  elf 

Who  in  my  brains  would  flit  about, 

Till  weightier  matters  drove  her  out. 

For  my  hard  work  has  gained  the  day ; 

And  still  hard  work  must  be  my  lot.- 
But  surely  I  might  get  away, 

So  I  will  go — why  should  I  not  ? 


1 6  JOHN  JERNINGHAUrS  JOURNAL. 

I'll  take  the  Johnsons  at  their  word, 
Have  country  air  and  exercise  ; — 

Then  I  shall  see,  too,  how  absurd 
It  was  to  let  the  laughing  eyes 

And  flitting  form  of  that  young  girl 

Put  all  my  senses  in  a  whirl ! 


Ah !  this  is  good !  I  draw  it  in, 

A  full,  long,  breath  of  pure,  fresh  air ! 

To  stay  in  town  would  be  a  sin ! 
Why  is  not  country  everywhere? 


This  pure,  fresh  air  it  is  so  fine, 

It  brightens  cheek,  and  lip,  and  eye, 

A  draught  of  dear  old  Nature's  wine, 
And  we  can  never  drain  it  dry ! 


JOHN  JERNING HAM'S    JOURNAL.  17 

A  long-drawn  breath  expands  the  chest 
And  makes  the  freshened  pulses  beat, 

It  lulls  excited  nerves  to  rest, 
And  puts  a  man  upon  his  feet ! 


Happy  the  swains  with  rustic  health, 
Who  care  not  how  the  'stocks'  may  go, 

Rich  in  their  very  scorn  of  wealth ! — 
But  yet,  perchance,  a  little  slow ! 

Oh  !  if  I  only  had  the  pow'r 

On  breezy  down,  in  shady  wood, 
To  spend  my  every  waking  hour ! — 
•  I  really  don't  believe  I  should  ! 


For  though  I'm  glad  to  get  away, 
With  nothing  in  the  world  to  do. 

And  find  the  first  a  pleasant  day, 
I  weary  in  a  day  or  two. 


i8  'JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

I  hope  they'll  send  my  letters  down, 
When  free  from  business  what  is  life ! — 

I  got  the  latest  news  in  Town, 
And  brought  some  fish  for  Johnson's  wife. 


I  rise  betimes,  and  go  downstairs 
So  light  of  step,  so  void  of  cares, 

And  hungry  too  !  « 

A  freshness  in  the  country  air 
Makes  fanners  relish  plainer  fare 

Than  townsfolk  do ! 


Where  are  the  papers?  What's  the  news? 
They  '  don't  see  much  except  Reviews,' 

And  '  read  them  through' ! ! 
They  only  have  one  post  a  day ! — 
The  office  too  so  far  away — 

How  can  they  do  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  19 

I  don't  deny  your  rightful  wealth 
Is  that  which  keeps  a  man 'in  health, 

Food — corn — and  that ; 
But  people  surely  ought  to  know 
How  shares  and  money-market  go, 

'Buoyant'  or  'flat'! — 


Yet,  after  all,  why,  what  are  stocks 
When  you  compare  them  with  the  flocks 

That  graze  around? 
We  cannot  live  except  we  eat, 
We  get  our  bread,  we  get  our  meat 

From  off  the  ground. 


There's  good  and  ill  in  every  case — 
This  bracing  air  at  least  is  charming ! — 

Johnson  is  wedded  to  the  place 

And  prides  himself  upon  his  farming. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAWS  JOURNAL. 

We  took  a  ramble,  looked  at  stores 
Of  hay  and  corn — a  pleasant  sight, 

We  passed  the  morning  out  of  doors 
And  came  in  with  an  appetite. 

How  tranquil  Johnson's  daily  course  !— 
Of  crops  how  learnedly  he  talks  ! 

(I  wonder  where  he  bought  that  horse?) 
We  have  good  rides,  or  famous  walks— 

Of  country  air  he  gets  his  fill, 

And  what  a  breather  up  that  hill ! 

To  him  no  anxious  times,  no  care, 
Nothing  to  take  him  unaware, 
Nothing  to  vex  him  or  to  worry, 
No  eager  dread,  no  fear,  no  flurry ! 

A  country  life's  the  life  to  live, 
And  country  air  the  air  to  give 
Muscle  and  bone ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  21 

Our  fathers  may  have  thought  of  this ! — 
The  country  would  not  be  amiss 
Ere  Town  was  known ! 

If  our  whole  island  were  a  town, 

Old  England's  glory  would  come  down, 

For  pluck  and  strength 
Want  early  hours,  and  wholesome  air, 
And  simple,  good,  substantial  fare, 

Or  fail  at  length ! 


22  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 


I  find  it  getting  rather  slow, — 

I  thought  it  would  be  when  I  came ! 

Town  has  so  much  that's  fresh  to  show. 
But  here — 'tis  day  by  day  the  same ! 


Well,  it  is  wonderful  and  strange 
In  country  life,  what  people  see ! 

I  cannot  do  without  a  change, 
The  City  is  the  place  for  me. 


Now,  as  you  walk  along  a  street 
There's  always  something  new  to  meet; 
But  here  it  is  so  blank  and  tame, 
The  wood,  the  river — just  the  same ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAUrS  JOURNAL.  23 

The  same  high  hills,  the  same  low  meads  ! 

A  shift  of  wind  becomes  a  boon. — 
Yet  Johnson  likes  the  life  he  leads  ! 

'Twould  settle  me — and  pretty  soon  ! 


But  here  to  find  some  change  one  tries — 
'Tis  hot  or  cold,  or  dry  or  wet ; 

And  in  the  morn  the  sun  must  rise, 
And  in  the  evening  he  must  set ; 


And  if  he  sets  in  glorious  hues 
Fair  weather  we  may  hope  to  see, 

And  this,  alas  !   is  all  the  news — 
If  news  it  is — that  reaches  me  ! 


One  never  knows  the  time  of  day, 
Or  where  to  go,  or  what  to  do, 
The  hours  pass  wearily  away— 

Which  early  train  will  take  me  '  through '  ? 
3 


24  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 


Ah,  I  have  seen  sweet  Rosa  Bell ! 
And  now  I  know 
What  charmed  me  so, 
What  forms  her  witchery, — her  spell ! 
'Tis  not  the  dazzling  pink  and  white, 

Nor  sparkling  eyes,  nor  golden  hair  ; — 
And  though  a  merry,  dancing  sprite, 

Kittens  would  meet  and  beat  her  there  ! 
But  she  is  very  fair  to  view — 
Like  Mother  Eve  when  worlds  were  new-- 
Fair  by  the  light  of  inner  grace 
Reflected  in  her  changeful  face  ; 
The  heaven  within  her  upraised  eye, 

The  sudden  look  of  sweet  surprise 
To  master  that  which  passes  by, 

And  all  the  love  that  dormant  lies  ; 
For  she  is  but  an  opening  flower  ! — 

She's  on  the  threshold  of  her  life  ! — 


JOHN  JERNINGHASTS  JOURNAL.  25 

And  she  will  be  a  noble  dower 
To  him  who  takes  the  girl  to  wife. 

All  that  is  sweet,  and  good,  and  fair, 

Are  folded  in  and  nestled  there, 

And  ask  but  time,  and  warmth,  and  space, 

To  open  out  in  fullest  grace 

Of  '  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned 

To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command  ! ' 

She  met  us,  and  she  stopped  to  talk  ; 

And,  strange  enough  !  remembered  me  ; — 
And  hoped  I'd  had  a  pleasant  walk, 

And  said  she  was  quite  glad  to  see 
I  had  escaped  again  from  Town. — 
But  this,  of  course,  I  must  put  down 
To  mere  politeness,  for  we  say 
As  much  as  this  is  every  day. — 
She  looked  as  if  she  meant  it,  though, 
And  gave  a  beaming  smile,  I  know. 


26  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

I'm  glad  I've  seen  her  once  again, 
For  now  I  understand  the  charm 
That  kept  her  image  in  my  brain, 

And  filled  me  with  a  strange  alarm. — 
'Tis  that  her  beauty,  barely  ripe, 
Made  her  stand  forward  as  the  type 
Of  what  is  sweet,  and  fair,  and  good, 
In  early  opening  womanhood. 

She  makes  me  think  of  Joan  of  Arc 
And  fair  Godiva,  both  in  one  ! — 

Grace  Darling,  in  her  fragile  bark, 
Did  but  what  this  fair  girl  had  done 

Had  she  belonged  to  such  a  grade — 

And  been,  too,  somewhat  stouter  made  ! 

Are  there  not  strange  affinities 

That  permeate  all  time  and  space  ? 

Some,  in  the  old  divinities 

Embodiment  of  them  can  trace. — 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL.  27 

'Tis  said  that  Nature  makes  a  pair, 
And  two-fold  life  is  everywhere. — 
Where  dwells  the  one  who  could  to  me 
A  sort  of  second-being  be  ? 


A  dinner-party  !  What  a  bore  ! 

Now  Johnson  might  have  spared  me  that  ! 
And  I  have  told  him  o'er  and  o'er 

I  much  prefer  a  quiet  chat  ! 


I  can't  escape,  at  any  rate ; — 
I  should  have  got  away,  indeed 

But  did  not  know  until  too  late  ! — 
Nor  can  I  an  engagement  plead  ! 


I  scarcely  yet  had  ceased  to  fume, 

But  smoothed  my  brow,  and  calmed  my  air, 
And  having  reached  the  drawing-room, 

Found — Rosa,  and  her  father,  there. 


28  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

And  me  to  him  they  introduce, 
I  hear  they  call  him  Major  Bell, — 

A  tall,  old  man,  both  neat  and  spruce — 
A  sort  of  antiquated  swell. 


He  had  not  much,  indeed,  to  say, 
Answered  with  yeses,  and  with  noes, 

And  so  I  quickly  got  away 

And  went  and  stood  by  little  Rose. 

And  little  Rose  looks  up  and  smiles, 
And  seems  to  brighten  when  I  come  ! — 

Is  she  a  witch  with  artful  wiles  ? — 

What  can  have  made  me  almost  dumb  ? 


And  yet  it  would  be  well  to  speak, 
To  utter  something  smart  and  gay, 

And  bring  the  dimple  to  her  cheek — 
But  all  my  words  had  fled  away  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  29 

The  dinner — like  too  many  such, 

You  had  not  room  to  move  your  amis, 

Your  neighbour  you  must  almost  touch — 
For  me  these  crowds  possess  no  charms. 

Some  that  give  dinners  seem  to  think, 

More  than  the  tables  fairly  seat 
Will  fill  up  pleasure  to  the  brink  ! — 

Their  own  good  wishes  they  defeat. 

Crowds  at  a  race  are  very  well, 

But  not  at  dinner,  or  at  ball. — 
A  married  man  took  Rosa  Bell, 

And  I — took  no  one  in  at  all. 


30  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 


They  played  at  croquet  on  the  lawn — 

I  stopped  awhile  to  watch  the  game, 

I  thought  it  very  poor  and  tame, 
And  turned  to  leave  them,  with  a  yawn  ! — 
But  Rosa  Bell  then  stood  by  me, 

And  chattered  gaily  as  she  stood  ; 
Before  she  went  I  got  to  see 

A  game  at  croquet  might  be  good  ! 
She  asked  me  if  I  did  not  play, 

And  volunteered  the  rules  to  teach  ; 
But  I  replied,  I  could  not  stay, 

Which  surely  was  a  stupid  speech  ; — 
Especially  as  I  remained 

Upon  the  ground  at  least  an  hour  ! — 
I  felt  my  footsteps  were  restrained 

By  some  unknown,  resistless  power  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  31 

I  watched  her  play — she  played  it  well, 
And  knocked  the  painted  balls  about, 

Her  eyes  were  bright 

With  true  delight 

When  to  her  some  advantage  fell ; 
She  gave  a  merry  little  shout 
At  putting  others  to  the  rout  ! — 

When  she  was  '  home '  and  once  more  free 

She  came  again  and  talked  to  me. 


I  liked  the  laughter  in  her  eyes, 
I  liked  the  glow  of  exercise 
Upon  her  cheek ;  and,  as  she  play'd 
Her  feet  a  pretty  picture  made, 
They  are  such  dainty,  tripping  feet ! — 
But  language  there  has  made  a  slip, 
For  feet  like  hers  would  never  trip, 
They're  far  too  clever,  and  too  neat ! 


32  JOHN  JERNINGHAbTS  JOURNAL. 


Her  beauty  comes  out  very  well 
When  you  can  catch  it  in  repose 

At  church  we  fronted  Major  Bell, — 
And  next  to  him,  his  daughter,  Rose. 

As  on  her  cheek  the  lashes  rest, 
I  think  I  like  that  style  the  best ; 
But  when  I  see  her  earnest  eyes 
In  them  a  heaven  of  beauty  lies  ! 
So  pure  are  they  '  that  from  their  ray 
Dark  Vice  would  turn  abashed  away.' 

I  almost  thought  to-day  to  trace 
A  sort  of  young-Madonna  face  ! 
All  undeveloped,  giving  scope 
For  much  of  fancy,  as  of  hope, 
Dependent  for  its  fashioning 
On  what  the  coming  years  may  bring. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  33 


An  Archery-meeting  ;   would  I  go  ? 

I  would. — It  is  a  fine  old  sport — 
You  think  of  Robin  Hood,  you  know, 

And  William  Tell — and  all,  in  short, 
Who  drew,  without  a  miss  or  flaw, 
A  longer  bow  than  now  we  draw. 


Toxopholites  degenerate 

To  me  they  seemed,  that  merry  band 
They  mostly  were  effeminate, 

And  did  not  strive  to  understand. 


I  could  not  praise  their  skill  at  all, 

Scarce  one  among  them  aimed  to  touch ; 
The  shafts  at  random  seemed  to  fall — 
The  bull's-eye  did  not  suffer  much  ! 


34  .  'JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

The  girls,  though,  made  a  pleasant  chatter, 
And  wore  a  pretty  dress  of  green  ; 

They  thought  their  failure  did  not  matter — 
And  that  fair  creature  was  their  queen. 


The  arrows  wildly  went  astray, 

And  some  fell  wide,  and  some  fell  short:  ;- 
It  is  not  mastered  in  a  day, 

This  fine,  old,  noble  English  sport ! 


They  could  not  hit  the  centre  blot 
With  careless  aim  and  idle  hands  ; — 

And  Johnson  says  the  safest  spot 
Is  always — where  the  target  stands. 


The  shooting  was  absurdly  bad — 
I  rathei  liked  their  fancy  dress — 

And  they  were  all  as  gay  and  glad 
As  if  it  were  a  great  success  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

So,  on  the  whole,  I  don't  repine 
At  having  gone — it  was  as  well — 

'Twas  all  that  offered — and — in  fine, 
I  saw  again  fair  Rosa  Bell. 


And  when  that  pretty  maid  I  see 
In  drawing-room,  or  field,  or  wood, 

She  talks  most  pleasantly  to  me — 
For  which  I  think  her  very  good. 

She  talks  to  me — yes,  that's  the  fact — 
My  speech  her  presence  drives  away- 

With  strange  stupidity  attacked 
I  cannot  find  a  word  to  say  ! 


But  she  likes  well  enough  to  chat. — 
Why.  John,  what  can  you  be  about, 

To  let  a  little  girl  like  that 

Put  all  your  senses  to  the  rout ! 


36  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 


The  pleasant  days  will  hurry  on  ; 

Why  can't  we  make  the  moments  stay? 
And  I,  alas  !  must  soon  be  gone  — 

How  quickly  comes  that  wretched  day  ! 


It  is  not  good  to  dwell  alone — 
So  God,  who  did  our  nature  plan, 

To  whom  our  every  want  is  known, 
Said  of  the  first,  the  new-made  man. 


The  lions  pair,  the  eagles  mate, 

The  birds  build  nests  in  hedge  and  tree. 
Tis  vain  to  fight  against  one's  fate  ! — 

I  wonder  if  she'd  marry  me  ? 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  37 

I  do  not  know  which  way  to  ask, 

I  have  no  notion  how  to  woo  ; 
It  cannot  be  a  pleasant  task — 

But  others  manage  to  get  through. 


Oh,  she  is  very  beautiful ! 

Would  I  could  call  her  all  my  own  ! 
A  loving  wife,  and  dutiful ! — 

I  cannot  bear  to  live  alone  ! 


I'm  fairly  caught ! — I  cannot  tell 
How  much  I  love  this  pretty  Rose  ! 

My  hopes  I  quell,  and  ring  their  knell, 
Unless  I  venture  to  propose  ! 


«Love  when  'tis  true  needs  not  the  aid 
Of  sigh  nor  oaths  to  make  it  known  ; 

And,  to  convince  the  cruel' st  maid 
Lovers  should  use  their  love  alone. 


38  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S   JOURNAL. 

So  Sedley  says.— If  this  is  all 

Love,  of  himself,  must  make  it  plain. — 
How  will  the  time  of  parting  fall  ? — 

And  shall  I  ever  come  again  ? 

Oh,  for  some  happy  hour  and  chance 
To  tell  her  all  that's  in  my  mind, 

Some  lonely  walk,  some  rustic  dance  ! — 
I  think  she  would  not  prove  unkind ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  39 


The  thing  is  over,  it  is  done ! 

I've  staked  the  stake — but  have  I  won  ? — 

I  have  not  spoken  as  I  meant, 

In  sooth,  I  am  but  half  content ; 

I  could  not  all  my  passion  tell, 

For  I  proposed  to— Major  Bell ! 

It  happened  we  were  left  alone, 

I  thought  the  Major  sounded  me  ; 
I  therefore  made  my  wishes  known, 

And  now  await  my  destiny  ! — 
Her  father  took  my  offer  well ; 
Of  course,  'twas  not  for  him  to  tell 
How  she  might  feel ;   but  in  his  air 
Was  something  to  forbid  despair. — 
He  must  have  meant  me  to  propose, — 

But  what  about  dear  little  Rose  ? 
4 


40  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

He  was  too  smooth  and  too  polite — 

I  like  a  fellow  out-of-hand  ! 
I  fear  I  have  not  acted  right, 

To  speak  to  one  so  smooth  and  bland. — 
But  it  is  over  ! — Nor  to-day 
Can  I  see  Rose,  for  she's  away ; 
To-morrow  morning  I  must  go, 
The  Major  says,  my  fate  to  know. 

Oh  !  Time,  how  senseless  is  the  one 

Who  represents  you  taking  flight ! 
For  me  you  neither  fly  nor  run, 

You  lamely  limp  along  to-night ! — 
How  can  I  sleep,  how  can  I  rest 
With  all  this  anxious  doubt  oppressed  ? — 
For  if  she  should  not  smile  on  me — 

She  always  smiles,  meet  when  we  may — 
Let  this  a  happy  omen  be  ! — 

My  ecstasy  I  cannot  say, 
If  she,  my  tender  little  dove, 
Accepts,  and  can  return  my  love  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  41 


She  is  so  fair,  so  sweet,  so  good, 
And  I — as  happy  as  a  boy  ! 

I  have  been  running  in  the  wood, 
I  climbed  a  tree  for  very  joy  ! 


I  shouted  till  the  woods  replied, 
I  shouted  then  at  their  reply  ; 

I  could  have  halloo' d  till  I  died, 
For  who  so  gay,  so  glad  as  I ! — 


I've  said  at  last  what  was  to  say, 
And  now  I  hold  the  darling's  word  ! 

Oh  !   quickly  dawn  thou  brightest  day 
That  brings  me  home  my  little  bird  ! — 


42  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

I  found  her  looking  very  sweet, 
And  half  in  blushes,  half  in  tears, 

As  if  afraid  my  love  to  meet — 

And  so  I  strove  to  calm  her  fears  ; 


And  told  what  she  already  knew, 
And  waited  till  she  answered  me  ; — 

But  when  they  came  her  words  were  few, 
And  checked  by  maiden  modesty. 


I  liked  her  better  in  this  guise 

Than  had  she  smiled  as  first  she  did ; 

I  sought  to  see  her  angel  eyes, 

But  they  were  veiled  by  downcast  lid. 

A  sweeter  Rose  is  this  than  she 

Of  whom  we  read— the  Gardener's  daughter, 
Whom  Juliet  sent  the  man  to  see — 

And  he  no  sooner  saw  than  sought  her. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAHTS  JOURNAL.  43 

Johnson  declares  he's  very  glad, 

And  Johnson's  wife  looked  pleased  and  sly ; — 
They'd  surely  set  me  down  for  mad 

If  they  but  knew  how  pleased  am  I ! 

I  feel  my  happy  heart  expand, 

My  sympathies  go  out  to  all ! — 
There's  not  a  being  in  the  land 

But  I  could  now  a  brother  call ! 


For  she  is  mine  !  Dear,  blushing  Rose, 
That  scarcely  could  her  answer  give  !— 

And  mine  the  earnest  hope,  God  knows, 
To  guard  this  treasure  while  I  live  ! 


44  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 


I'm  back  at  work — again  in  Town, 
How  different  my  coming  life ! 

I  little  thought,  when  I  went  down, 
To  look  about  and  get  a  wife. 

Of  changes  time  is  very  full — 

How  seldom  can  we  much  foresee — 

Whilst  by  his  horns  I  took  the  bull, 
Upon  his  horns  the  bull  took  me  ! 

Are  there  not  hidden  mysteries 

Our  foresight  mocking,  and  our  sense  ? 
How  frequent  are  the  histories 

Where  seeming  chance  is  Providence  ! 

Oh  !  it  is  very  sweet  to  own 
I  live  not  in  myself  alone  ! — 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  45 

Her  happy  life  is  wrapped  in  mine, 

And  pulse  for  pulse  and  breath  for  breath, 

So  close  shall  love  our  lives  entwine 
We  two  are  only  one  till  death ! — 

And  after  death  'tis  ours  to  be 

Together  in  Eternity. 

Her  face  no  longer  haunts  me  here, 

With  mocking  smiles  for  ever  near, 

Or  peeps  from  unexpected  nooks 

When  I  am  busy  with  my  books. 

Down  in  my  heart  of  hearts  she  lives, 

And  cheery  warmth  and  strength  she  gives  ! 

For  all  my  being  is  astir 

With  thoughts  and  hopes  that  spring  from  her  ! 

The  rapture  of  the  parting  kiss  ! — 

I  held  her  to  my  throbbing  heart, 
And  took  that  sweet  foretaste  of  bliss  ! — 

It  made  it  worth  the  while  to  part. 


46  JOHN  JERNINGHARTS  JOURNAL. 

But  lovers  who  must  part  for  years, 
Who  go  across  the  dreary  seas, 

What  anguish  in  their  falling  tears ! — 
Ah  !  from  my  soul  I  pity  these. 

They  part,  and  dare  not  hope  to  meet, 
Or  hope,  and  find  their  hope  is  vain  ; — 

No  joy  for  them,  the  woe  to  cheat, 
No  pleasure  to  outweigh  the  pain  ! 


I  had,  before  I  came  away, 
An  interview  with  Major  Bell ; 

He  seemed  to  have  a  hand  to  play — 
I  do  not  like  him  over  well. 

In  open  field  you  have  the  right 

To  make  good  running  when  you  can 

The  Major's  grasp  is  very  tight — 
Poor  chances  for  a  weakly  man  ! — 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  47 

Unlike  her  father,  darling  Rose  ! 

Her  generous  nature  is  her  own  ; 
Her  every  look  and  word  disclose 

No  guile,  no  art,  to  her  is  known  ! — 

Like  parent  stem  becomes  the  flower, 

Sparrow  like  sparrow  seems  to  be, 
But  man  receives  a  richer  dower 

In  infinite  variety. 

How  seldom  find  we  form  and  face 

Another  face  and  form  repeat ! — 
I  love  the  difference  to  trace 

When  passing  through  the  crowded  street ; 

And  every  differing  face  and  form 

Its  differing  life  and  nature  bears  ; — 
Knew  we  the  laws,  no  sudden  storm 

In  man  would  take  us  unawares. 


48  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

Oh !  quickly  dawn  thou  happy  day 
When  I  shall  call  this  angel,  wife  ! 

With  her  my  own,  come  then  what  may, 
There  must  be  sunshine  in  my  life  ! 


I  have  a  cosy  little  nest 

Fit  for  my  bird,  my  sweetest  Rose  ; — 
I  think  the  people  did  their  best 

Its  pretty  fittings  to  dispose. 

I  knew  not  half  so  much  before 

Of  carpets,  curtains,  poles,  and  rings  ; — 

I  used  to  deem  it  once  a  bore 
To  hear  about  such  trivial  things. 

But  now — for  Rose — no  pains  too  great, 
No  cares  too  small,  that  give  her  pleasure  !- 

I  like  to  stand  and  contemplate 

This  casket  for  my  valued  treasure. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAWS   JOURNAL.  49 

Oh  !  happy  day,  come  soon,  come  soon, 

When  darling  Rosa  will  be  mine  ! — • 
I'm  longing  for  the  honeymoon  ! 

I  mean  to  take  her  up  the  Rhine. 

'  All  thoughts,  all  passions,  all  delights, 

Whatever  stirs  this  mortal  frame, 
All  are  but  ministers  of  Love 

And  feed  his  sacred  flame.' 

And  high,  indeed,  his  flame  will  mount, 

And  scatter  brightness  on  the  way, 
When  I  have  nothing  more  to  count 

To  reach  my  wedding-day  ! 


I  weary  of  that  wretched  train  ! 

So  many  journeys  to  and  fro  ! 
Always  to  go  and  come  again ! — 

The  very  porters  seem  to  know  ! 


50  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S   JOURNAL. 

And  now,  whenever  I  run  down, 

So  fully  is  she  occupied 
With  mantle,  bonnet,  skirt  or  gown, 

That  I  am  almost  thrust  aside  ! 


But  should  not  holy  marriage  be 

A  greater  thought  than  handsome  dress  ! — 
These  trifles  hold  her  back  from  me — 

They  seem  to  make  her  love  me  less. 

I  envy  flounce  and  furbelow, 

And  trimming,  veils,  and  gloves,  and  lace  ;- 
They  occupy  her  more,  I  trow, 

Than  can  be  good  in  such  a  case. 


When  Adam  woke  and  saw  his  Eve, 
And  loved  his  helpmeet,  pure  and  fair, 

No  fuss  like  this  arose  to  grieve 
And  come  between  the  happy  pair  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  51 

But  now  the  wedding — which  we  know 

As  life-long  tie  of  heart  to  heart 
Has  dress,  and  gaiety,  and  show 

To  constitute  its  chiefest  part ! 

No  matter  ;  it  will  bring  about 

A  time  that  can  for  all  atone  ; 
For  when  the  wedding-bells  ring  out, 

I  speed  away — and  not  alone  ! 


I  took  her  down  a  pretty  set 

Of  pearls,  for  my  pure  pearl  to  wear- 
I  think  I  see  her  smiling  yet  ! — 

I  hope  they  '11  suit  a  girl  so  fair. 

On  them  she  looked  with  loving  eyes, 
Delighted  was  she  with  my  choice; 

And  me  she  kissed  in  glad  surprise  ! — 
It  made  my  inmost  heart  rejoice  ! 


52  JOHN  JERNINGHAZVS  JOURNAL. 

The  day  at  last  is  drawing  near, 

The  day  for  which  I  long  have  sighed  ; 

I  pant  with  joy,  I  pant  with  fear — 
I  go  to  claim  my  lovely  bride  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAUrS   JOURNAL.  53 


PART  II. 

BOUND  by  the  tie  of  man  and  wife- 
Whatever  troubles  may  befall — 

'Tis  ours  to  know  that  fullest  life 
Where  each  to  each  is  all  in  all. — 

My  darling  Rose,  my  gentle  dove, 
I  cannot  tell  my  happiness 

In  knowing  I  have  gained  thy  love  ; 
Nor  all  my  gratitude  express 

To  think  that  I  am  one  with  thee — 

That  through  the  change  of  coming  years 

We  two  are  one — and  cannot  be 
Alone  again  in  hopes  or  fears  ! 

And  may  we,  as  we  forward  gc 
Together,  and  together  still, 

The  holiest,  purest  pleasure  know, 
The  brightest  phase  of  life  fulfil ! 


54  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 

Again  I  see  my  blushing  bride 
Before  the  altar,  at  my  side  ; 
Her  gentle  air,  her  timid  look, 
When  I  her  slender  finger  took 
And  placed  the  ring  !    I  gave  my  troth 

To  love  and  cherish  her  till  death, 
And  she  pledged  hers  ;  and  there  to  both 
The  priest  our  several  duties  read. — 

I  did  not  freely  draw  my  breath 
Till  it  was  done,  and  we  were  wed  ! 


For  I  had  felt  it  far  too  dear, 

Too  sweet  a  draught  for  me  to  sip, 

Thought  some  ill  fate  would  interfere 
And  snatch  the  cup  when  at  my  lip  ; — 

Nor  could  I  drive  away  this  dread 

Till  she  was  mine,  and  fairly  wed ! 

The  wedding  guests,  the  bridesmaids  there, 
That  seemed  our  happiness  to  share, 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS   JOURNAL.  55 

They  fluttered  round  her,  and  she  stood 

A  Queen  amid  the  graceful  throng, 
A  thousand  times  more  choice  and  good 

Than  any  maiden  sung  in  song  ! 
A  pretty  scene  ! — A  happy  day, 

Which  still  to  happier  days  led  on  ! — 
But  I  was  glad  to  get  away 

And  with  my  darling  wife  be  gone. 


56  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S   JOURNAL. 


My  wife's  remarks  are  very  droll, — 
And  then,  the  questions  that  she  asks  ! 

Are  they  from  ignorance  ? — or  soul, 
And  genius? — That  has  many  masks  ! 

It  strikes  nie  she  is  little  taught — 
No  matter,  she  is  very  sweet ; 

'Twas  not  a  learned  wife  I  sought, 
Love  will  all  other  teachers  beat. 

I  could  not  have  a  happier  task 
Than  her  light  studies  to  direct, — 

To  every  question  she  can  ask 
A  ready  answer  she'll  expect ! 

Her  mind  is  like  an  opening  flower, 
And  I  shall  be  the  Zephyr  bland, 


JOHN  JERNINGHAMS  JOURNAL.  57 

To  breathe  thereon  with  quickening  power, 
And  make  the  tender  leaves  expand.         « 

And  she  will  catch  the  hue,  the  tone, 

That  ever  nearest  she  shall  find, 
And  thus  become  still  more  my  own, 

For  we  shall  be  but  one  in  mind  ! 


A  growing  fear  possesses  me, 

An  anxious  thought  distresses  me  ! — 

'Tis  but  a  look,  a  tone,  an  air, 

And  yet  I  wonder  what  is  there  ! — 

Is  it  a  cloud  that's  creeping  up  ? 

A  dash  of  bitter  in  the  cup  ? 

The  « little  rift  within  the  lute'  ? 

The  '  pitted  speck  in  garnered  fruit '  ? 

Yet  if  I  ask  me  what  ?  or  why  ? 

No  ready  words  give  quick  reply. — 
?* 


58  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 

'Tis  vague  alarm,  'tis  coward  fear  ; 
\\.  will  not  open  summons  hear, 
But  hiding,  slyly  throws  a  dart 
With  careful  aim  ?t  tender  part. 


A  kind  of  want,  a  sort  of  care 

Will  hang  about  her  unaware — 

As  though  her  inner  being  pined 

For  some  great  good  it  fails  to  find  ! — 

A  little  matter,  very  slight, 

I  cannot  grasp  it,  though  I  see. — 
It  floats  about,  it  hides  the  light, 

It  makes  some  moments  dull  to  me  ! 


Would  I  possessed  a  potent  charm  ! — 
But  is  she  ill  ? — a  new  alarm  ! — 
I  questioned  her,  she  hung  her  head  ; 
She  only  wanted  change,  she  said. 
If  this  the  wrong,  we  must  away  ! — 
Back  came  her  smiles,  and  she  was  gay. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL.  59 

She  wanted  change  !    With  change  oppressed, 
I  should  have  thought  she  wanted  rest ! 
And  so  I  hastily  took  fright 
At  what  a  journey  will  put  right ! 


My  little  wife  is  singing  gaily ; 

She  loves  to  sing,  and  laugh,  and  chatter  ; 
We  move  about,  we're  moving  daily, 

And  there  is  nothing  now  the  matter. 

And  she  is  charmed  with  all  she  sees, 

And  everything  to  her  is  new, 
The  merest  trifles  serve  to  please, 

The  child  exclaims  at  every  view  1 


60  JOHN  JERNINGHAMS  JOURNAL. 

And  many  a  question  puts  to  me, 

And  mine  is  all  her  strange  delight ! — 

It  is  a  something  grand  to  see 
A  little  wife  so  glad  and  bright ! 


And  still  how  readily  she'll  look 
For  information  and  for  news, 
As  if  I  were  a  clever  book 

Which  she  delighted  to  peruse  ! 

• 

And  her  intelligence  is  great ! — 

The  richest  ground,  though  lying  fallow  !- 
I  wonder  by  what  freak  of  fate 

Her  learning  chanced  to  be  so  shallow  ? 

But  though  she's  quick,  and  sweet  and  fair 
The  charm  of  charms — all  else  above — 

It  fills  my  heart,  it  revels  there — 
That  I  possess  her  fullest  love  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  6 1 

That  all  her  being  turns  to  mine  ; 

That  growing  liker,  side  by  side, 
We  shall  together,  cloud  or  shine, 

'  From  happy  years  to  happier  glide.' 


Now  comes  another  little  fear 
To  enter  in  and  nestle  here, 
But  I,  without  the  least  delay, 
Drive  this  ill-favoured  sprite  away. — 
I  would  not  have  the  slightest  slur, 
The  slightest  censure,  passed  on  her ! 

I  do  not  want  her  like  a  prude  ! — 
Why  will  this  whispering  fear  intrude  ? 
I  might  be  rather  glad  to  see 
Her  manner  just  a  shade  less  free. — 


62  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

Not  that  she  means  to  be  too  bold, 
No,  Rosa  fiee  from  blame  I  hold  ! 
It  is  the  present  style  and  tone, — 
I  do  not  think  it  good,  I  own. 

My  mother,  now — those  times  are  past, 
Manners  and  fashions  will  not  last, 
Girls  have  become  a  little  fast ! 
To  copy  mothers  would  be  slow  ! 
Still  there  are  things  should  never  go  ; 
And  womanly  reserve — the  nice 
And  ready  instinct,  thwarting  vice — 
Is  one  of  them.     I  love  to  see 
The  outworks  held  by  modesty  ; 
The  quick  alarm  that  seems  to  tell 
You  cannot  storm  the  citadel  ! 

I  do  not  blame  my  dearest  Rose, 
It  is  the  way  the  fashion  goes, 
And  against  fashion  how  convince  ? 
But  I  confess  it  makes  me  wince 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  63 

To  see  my  wife  so  freely  chat 

With  strangers  at  hotels,  and  that. — 

That  Frenchman,  first,  on  board  the  boat — 

But  he  is  only  one  to  quote — 

It  was  presuming  when  the  man 

At  once  to  talk  to  Rose  began  ! 

She  should  have  known  the  proper  way 

To  keep  such  insolence  at  bay  ! 

She  might  have  checked  him  with  a  look, 

And  quietly  have  been  polite  ; 
She  laughed  at  his  mistakes,  and  took 

The  greatest  pains  to  put  him  right  ! 
And  seemed  about  as  pleased  as  he, 
And  was,  I  thought,  almost  too  free  ! 

I  do  not  wish  my  wife  to  fetter, 

But  more  reserve  would  please  me  bettei 

If  she  were  less  accessible, 

Her  spirits  more  repressible, 

A  something  there,  a  sort  of  grace, 

To  make  all  people  know  their  place  ( 


64  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

She's  so  attractive,  and  so  fair, 
Men  turn  to  watch  her  everywhere, — 
And  she  is  pleased  because  they  stare  ! 
Were  I  a  woman,  now,  I  think 
From  such  attention  I  should  shrink. 


She  means  no  harm,  but,  to  my  taste, 
This  confidence  is  much  misplaced. 
The  code  she  goes  by  seems  to  be — 
With  men  be  at  your  ease,  and  free  ; 
Love  where  you  love,  and  treat  the  others 
As  if  they  were  your  friends  and  brothers  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  65 


At  home  !  — A  very  charming  word 

Has  home  become  to  me, 
So  sweet,  its  like  was  never  heard 

In  days  of  liberty. 

There's  one  to  watch  my  coming  home, 

To  meet  me  with  a  smile ; 
In  truth,  I  have  no  need  to  roam 

My  leisure  to  beguile. 

But  breakfast  over,  I'm  away, 

And  only  back  to  dine. — 
I  wonder  how  she  spends  the  day, 

To  what  her  tastes  incline  ? 


66  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 

I  almost  envy  her,  indeed, — 
So  much  as  she  might  do ! — 

There  are  so  many  things  to  read, 
I  scarce  can  look  them  through. 


But  I  my  duty  must  not  shirk 

Nor  do  my  duty  ill, 
For  now  I've  double  cause  to  work, 

And  work  with  double  will. 

To  have  a  second  life  that  lives 

For  you,  and  you  alone, 
Repeats  your  pleasures,  and  it  gives 

A  greater  of  its  own ! — 


I  do  believe  Rose  scarcely  reads 

A  Paper  or  Review  j 
She'd  rather  work  a  mat  with  beads 

Than  look  a  column  through ; 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL,  67 

She'd  rather  play  a  silly  dance 

That  has  so  little  in  it, 
Than  give  to  matters  of  finance. 

Or  politics,  a  minute  ! — 


Well,  never  mind,  she's  very  sweet 

And  very  dear  to  me ! 
I  love  to  watch  her,  bright,  and  neat, 

At  dinner  and  at  tea. 


And  when  she  pours  me  out  my  tea, 

The  tea  it  is  so  good  ! — 
It  never  was  like  this  to  me 

In  days  of  bach'lorhood ! 

I  often  take  another  cup, 

To  have  her  pour  it  out, 
And  sip,  and  drink  it  slowly  up, 

And  keep  the  things  about. — 


68  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

And  when  I  have  to  say  good  bye, 

I  tear  myself  away. — 
My  business  over,  back  I  fly, 

Without  the  least  delay ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  69 


My  wife's  first  ball  to-morrow  night, 
And  she  is  wild  with  gay  delight, 
And  occupied  about  her  dress, 
Which  she  would  have  a  grand  success  !- 
I  hope  my  friends  will  take  to  her — 

But  that  they  cannot  fail  to  do — 
That  she's  most  winning,  I  aver, 

And  then  she  is  so  pretty  too  ! 

I  must  not  have  her  dance  too  much, 

I  cannot  let  her  waltz  at  all. 
I  ventured  on  my  views  to  touch 

When  we  were  talking  of  the  ball. — 
Though  some  may  say  I'm  too  precise, 

I  have  the  right  to  draw  a  line ; — 
I  do  not  think  round  dances  nice — 

At  least  for  Rosa,  now  she's  mine. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 


The  ball  is  over !     Would  to  Heaven 
I  had  not  taken  Rosa  there  ! 

This  horrid  pain  so  roughly  given, 
And  not  one  jot  she  seems  to  care  ! 

Before  she  went  her  evening  dress 
Annoyed  me — cut  by  far  too  low, 

I  strove  to  make  the  evil  less, — 
Without  a  scarf  she  should  not  go  ! 

And  she  was  almost  in  a  passion, 
She  did  not  like  to  put  it  on, — 

But  this  is  not  a  point  of  fashion, — 
She  took  it  off  when  I  was  gone  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  71 

Now  Lady  Graeme  is  most  refined, 
Such  dressing  would  her  taste  offend, 

And  I  had  always  set  my  mind 
On  having  her  for  Rosa's  friend. 


I  felt  inclined  to  stop  away — 
And  now  I  truly  wish  we  had  ! 

But  Rosa  counted  on  the  day, — 
I  did  not  like  to  make  her  sad. 


Beside,  I  never  should  have  guessed 
She  can't  be  trusted  out  of  sight ! — 

I  am  astonished  and  distressed 

At  learning  what  I  learned  to-night ! 

I  played  a  rubber,  and  returned 
To  find  her — whirling  in  a  waltz  ! 

And  all  my  wishes  coldly  spurned, 
And  all  her  promises  made  false  ! 


72  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 

How  dared  she  !     With  her  smiling  face 
Close  to  the  man's !  her  shoulders  bare  ! — 

He  clasped  her  in  the  giddy  race, 

His  whiskers  almost  touched  her  hair ! 


I  could  have  dashed  amid  the  crowd 
To  tear  her  from  his  circling  arm  ! 

I  checked  myself — I  felt  too  proud 
To  make  a  scene — to  cause  alarm. 


I  brought  her  home  without  delay, 
My  rage  I  hardly  could  conceal, 

I  think  she  pleaded  still  to  stay, — 
Nor  seemed  the  least  remorse  to  feel. 


My  thoughts  on  deep  upbraidings  ran, — 
But  I  suppressed  them  when  I  spoke ; 

She  answered  lightly — as  she  can — 
She  seemed  to  think  it  all  a  joke. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S   JOURNAL.  73 

That  I  had  told  her  not  to  waltz 

She  half  denied — or  did  not  care — 
But  this  pretence  was  weak  and  false, — 

She  coolly  set  about  her  hair. — 

I  never  felt  more  deeply  hurt  != — 

My  wishes  trampled  in  the  dust ! — 
In  power  of  vain  and  giddy  flirt 

It  is  not  wise  one's  peace  to  trust  ! 

I've  taken  measures  to  prevent 

Recurrence  of  this  dreadful  pain — 
She  shall  have  leisure  to  repent 

Before  she  goes  to  balls  again  ! 

For  then  and  there  did  I  decline 
The  invitations  for  each  ball — 
If  she  regards  no  wish  of  mine 

I  will  not  take  her  out  at  all ; 
4 


74  JOHN  JERNING  HAM'S   JOURNAL. 

So,  at  her  desk  I  sat  me  down 

And  wrote  replies,  constrained  and  glum, 
To  Lady  Vaux,  and  half  the  Town, 

Declaring  that  we  could  not  come. 

1  rang  the  bell,  the  letters  sent 
For  posting  in  the  nearest  box. — 

And  then  I  told  her  what  I  meant  — 
That  notes  despatched  to  Lady  Vaux, 

And  Mrs.  Payne,  and  Colonel  Vane 
From  those  engagements  set  us  free. — 

Nor  will  I  take  her  out  again 

Till  she  has  learned  to  study  me  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAMS    JOURNAL.  75 


At  breakfast  time  she  gave  my  cup 
With  stiff  politeness  ;  had  she  shown 

The  least  desire  to  make  it  up 

I  should  have  yielded,  I  must  own. — 

I  waited  till  the  hour  was  past, 

And  went  unreconciled  at  last ! 

I  strove  to-night  to  break  the  ice 

By  asking  how  the  day  was  spent. 
Her  answers  were  not  free,  nor  nice, — 

I  wholly  failed  in  my  intent. — 
She  did  not  read,  she  did  not  play, 

For  what  she  did  I'm  at  a  loss. — 
She  did  not,  surely,  fret  all  day 

Because  I  scolded  and  was  cross  ? 


76  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

My  interference  she  resented — 
That  I  had  spoken  I  repented — 
I  could  not  bear  her  altered  look, 
And  turned  for  refuge  to  a  book. 

I  long  to  snatch  her  to  my  heart 
And  kiss  to  smiles  that  ugly  frown, 

But  while  she  plays  this  injured  part 
She  would  but  coolly  put  me  down. — 

And  I  am  sorry  now  I  wrote 

Those  notes  so  hastily  last  night. — 
Her  look  of  sorrow  and  affright 

When  she  was  told — my  heart  it  smote, 

And  haunts  me  still ! — 'Tis  past  recall — 
Well,  I  must  ask  her  pardon  there  ; 

I'll  take  her  to  some  other  ball 

If  the  round  dances  she'll  forswear. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  77 


Another  day  has  passed  away 

And  still  this  distance  and  this  gloom  ! 
Where  is  the  creature,  bright,  and  gay, 

That  gave  a  charm  to  every  room  ? — 
She  meets  me  with  a  cool  good-morrow, 

Politely  formal  at  each  meal, 
Shows  more  of  anger  than  of  sorrow — 

She  cannot  guess  at  what  I  feel ! 
No  loving  tone,  or  look,  or  kiss, 
How  can  I  live  a  life  like  this ! 
And  live  it  why  ? — Because  she  did 
The  only  thing  I  had  forbid, 
And  took  to  sulking  when  I  chid ! 


?S  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 


'Tis  very  hard  to  be  at  strife 

With  one  we  love  !     Each  word  unkind 
Cuts  to  the  heart  like  cruel  knife, 

And  rankles  after  in  the  mind. 

And  where  we  blame,  and  still  love  on, 
And  cannot  all  the  blame  forget, 

Our  anger  shall  not  soon  be  gone, 
Two-edg*d  it  is,  and  doubly  whet ; 

For  we  are  angered  first  at  wrong 
Borne  by  ourselves,  then  far  above 

This  anger,  other,  lasting  long, 
For  fault  abiding  where  we  love. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL.  79 


Can  she  be  made  of  flesh  and  blood 

And  bear  on  terms  like  these  to  live  ? 
The  tranquil  beast  that  chews  the  cud 

Could  not  a  calmer  picture  give  ; 
Except  that  I  at  times  have  thought 

She  seems  afraid  to  meet  my  eye, 
And  looks  as  if  she  had  been  caught 

In  something  wrong  or  something  sly  ! 

Oh  !  Rosa,  let  me  still  be  sure 
That  no  deceit  can  ever  dwell 

Within  that  breast  I  thought  so  pure  ! 
For  thee  to  doubt,  would  faith  expel 

And  I  should  know  not  where  to  cast 

An  anchor  in  the  whelming  blast ! 


8o  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

Another  day  shall  not  pass  by 

Till  I  have  spoken  out  my  mind  ! 
Rosa  may  sulk,  or  she  may  cry, 

Or  call  me  cruel  and  unkind ; 
I  will  not  have  our  wedded  life 
Embittered  by  this  hateful  strife, 
I'll  take  to  task  my  little  wife  ! — 
I'll  show  her  what  her  duties  are, 

And  where  she  fails,  and  I  am  pained. 
Her  life  and  mine  she  shall  not  mar 

By  false  resentment,  overstrained. — 
The  right  she  must  be  made  to  see, 
And  she  will  surely  yield  to  me. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  81 


She  does  not  love  me !     Oh,  the  pang, 
The  thrilling  anguish  of  that  thought  !- 

Envenomed  bite  of  deadly  fang  ! — 
It  is  with  madness  fraught ! 

I  spoke  to  her. — I  would  not  let 
Our  mutual  life  drag  on  in  pain  ! 

A  word  to  her  I  hoped  would  set 

The  matter  right — make  peace  again. 

I  deemed  it  but  a  lingering  haze 

That  hung  between,  and  hid  the  light — 

This  blown  away,  our  future  days 
Would,  like  our  former  ones,  be  bright. 

4* 


82  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

I  talked  to  her  of  love  and  truth, 
Of  patience  and  forbearance  too- 

I  said  her  ignorance — her  youth, 
Should  yield  to  one  who  better  knew. 


I  tried  to  paint  the  happy  life 
That  could  be  led  alone  by  those 

Who,  in  the  tie  of  man  and  wife, 
Considered  duties  that  arose. — 


She  answered  like  a  silly  child, 
Trying  to  make  a  childish  joke  ; 

At  this  I  felt  provoked  and  wild — 
It  was  with  purpose  that  I  spoke. 


But  suddenly  there  came  the  thought 
She  does  not  love  me,  for  she  knows 

No  sympathy  with  me  ! — I  sought 

To  prove  me  wrong,  and  questioned  Rose. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAMS  JOURNAL.  83 

For  if  she  loved  me,  soon  or  late 

Would  all  come  right,  no  matter  when  ; 

Thirsting  at  once  to  know  my  fate, 
I  asked  her  if  she  loved  me  then. — 


And  did  she  love  me  ?— No  reply  ! — 

Sharp  answers  stab  !  hard  words  may  kill ! 

But  silence  to  this  question  ! — Why, 
It  is  intensity  of  ill ! 


To  be  my  wife  she  would  not  come 
Without  some  answering  love  for  me  ?- 

The  stilly  silence  struck  me  dumb, 
I  could  not  fail  its  drift  to  see  ! 


And  did  she  dare  the  future  stake, 
Unloving  come  to  share  my  life, 

And  calmly,  coldly  undertake 
The  holy  duties  of  a  wife  ! 


84  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

Then  as  the  truth  shone  boldly  out 
On  other  wrong  its  light  it  threw,  - 

Her  father  brought  the  thing  about ! 
And  was  not  I  imprudent  too  ? 


For  charmed  by  figure  and  by  face 
I  read  therein  the  good  I  wanted, 

Caught  by  her  witchery  and  grace, 
Her  love  I  almost  took  for  granted. 


But  now  I  understand  ! — Poor  Rose, 
.     From  blame  her  weakness  is  not  free  ! — 
The  best,  perchance,  among  her  beaux, 
Her  father  made  her  marry  me. 

We  boast  our  daughters  have  a  choice, 
Yet  many  a  daughter  is  but  sold, 

And  seems  to  give  consenting  voice, — 
The  greatest  cheat  performed  for  gold  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL.  85 

I've  met  with  marrying  mammas, 

Their  clever  plotting  have  detected ; 
Match-making  schemes  among  papas, 

This  heartless  work  I  ne'er  suspected  ! 

The  want  that  struck  me,  this  explains — 

She  sees  her  future  cold  and  blank ; 
Wives  without  love  are  slaves  in  chains, 

And  husbands  hear  the  fetters  clank  ! 


86  JOHN  JERNINGHAArS  JOURNAL. 


How  could  1  wed  a  giddy  wife 

AVhose  tastes  must  ever  clash  with  mine  ! 
And  cast  my  happiness  for  life 

An  offering  at  her  beauty's  shrine  ! 

I  cannot  such  disgrace  endure 

As  that  she  made  me  bear  last  night ; 

I  scarcely  even  feel  secure, 

With  her  behavior  free  and  light ! 

We  went  to  dine  at  Lady  Graeme's— 
My  wife  appears  a  finished  flirt ! 

Her  conduct  greatly  shocked  Sir  James, 
I  felt  provoked  with  her — and  hurt ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  87 

At  dinner,  at  Sir  James's  side, 
She  took  her  post  as  honored  bride, 
And  filled  it  with  a  pretty  grace, 
A  sweet  bewilderment  of  face.  — 
But  after,  in  the  drawing  room, 

Resolved  was  she  to  make  display ! 
I  know  not  how  she  could  presume 

To  act  in  that  outrageous  way, 
And  with  loud  merriment  to  be 
To  all  around  her  gay  and  free  ! — 
A  knot  of  men  beside  her  chair 

Assembled,  first,  to  joke  and  laugh, 
Which  she  approved,  with  lively  air, 

And  joined  them  in  their  fun  and  chaff! 
I  talked  apart  with  Lady  Graeme, 
But  there  the  boisterous  laughter  came. 
It  made  me  feel  ashamed  and  vexed  ! — 
But  scarce  prepared  for  what  was  next ! 
For  then,  a  tall  and  languid  swell 

With  easy  carelessness  advanced — 


88  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 

He  seemed  to  know  her  passing  well ! — 

It  was  the  man  with  whom  she  danced  f 
Upon  her  easy-chair  he  leant, 

And  spoke  to  her  in  lowered  tone 
With  cool  effrontery — as  bent 

To  make  her  his  acquaintance  own. 
She  raised  her  eyes  as  if  to  speak, 
With  mantling  blushes  on  her  cheek. 
I  caught  Sir  James's  wondering  look, 
And  other  people  notice  took. — 
Then  she  became  confused,  and  shy, 

Got  up — to  move  away,  I  thought, — 
Sat  down  again  without  reply, — 

And  what  it  meant  in  vain  I  sought ! — 
I  wonder  what  he  could  have  said 
To  make  her  blush  so  deep  a  red  ! 
But  she  recovered  from  her  fright, 

And  whispered  answers  back  to  him — 
Perchance  some  nonsense,  gay  and  light — 

He  took  advantage  of  her  whim, 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  89 

And  there  beside  her  down  he  sat 
For  a  long,  confidential  chat, 
And  so  engrossed  and  pleased  are  they, 
'  A  pair  of  lovers '  one  would  say  ! 


It  seems  her  great  delight  to  be 

Agreeable  to  all  around, 
And  none  so  bold,  and  none  so  free, 

But  she  can  meet  them  on  their  ground ! — 
How  dare  she  in  this  way  behave, 
Dishonoring  the  name  I  gave  ! 
And  drawing  all  regards  upon  her 
As  if  she  gloried  in  dishonor  ! 
We  said  good  night  to  Lady  Graeme 
And  then,  together,  home  we  came 
Home  !     Is  it  any  home  to  me, 

Or  is  there  any  hope  in  life, 
When  all  my  happiness  I  see 

Intrusted  to  a  flirting  wife  ? 


90  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

I  did  not  speak  as  back  we  drove, 
I  could  not  trust  myself  to  speak, 

My  anger  for  the  mastery  strove 
At  thought  of  her  immodest  freak. - 

Yet  with  my  passions  in  a  stir 

I  sought  to  make  excuse  for  her. 

She  is  but  young,  she  does  not  know 

How  quick  the  world  will  ill  impute  ; 
My  duty  it  should  be  to  show, 

And  save  her  from  this  bitter  fruit. 
If  she  could  love  me  more  discreet 
That  love  would  make  her. — Ah  !  to  meet 
This  fond  assurance  in  her  eyes, 
And  find  her  henceforth  good  and  wise  ! 

I  grieve  that  we  are  kept  apart ! — 
I  longed  to  take  her  to  my  heart ! 
My  just  vexation  I  repressed — 
No  evil  thought  had  she  in  mind, 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS   JOURNAL.          91 

Her  childish  giddiness  transgressed — 
I  struggled  to  be  calm  and  kind. 

I  found  her  in  her  dressing-gown — 

With  all  her  golden  hair  let  down, 

And  watched  her  while  she  brushed  her  hair, 

And  wished  she  was  as  good  as  fair  ! 

I  asked  her  if  she  ever  thinks — - 
From  serious  questions  Rosa  shrir/ks, 
And  the  more  earnest  I  may  be 
The  more  ridiculous  is  she — 
She  '  thought  she'd  liked  to  give  a  ball,' 
And  '  not  to  be  reproved  at  all.' 


.1  was  determined,  and  I  spoke 
Of  all  the  cares  and  hopes  of  life, 

And  would  not  let  a  silly  joke 
Prevent  my  duty  to  my  wife  ; 


92  JOHN  JERNINGHARTS  JOURNAL. 

But  all  across  the  grain  it  went, 
For  still  on  mocking  was  she  bent, 
And  said,  with  saucy-glancing  eyes, 
She'd  rather  far  be  fair  than  wise  ! 
And  begged  while  young  to  be  but  gay, 
And  like  a  merry  kitten  play. — 
Her  mockery  some  time  I  stood 
And  tried  to  speak  to  her  for  good ; 
But  she,  with  answers  vain  and  light, 

And  still  disposed  to  play  the  fool, 
My  rallied  patience  put  to  flight, 

And  I  was  neither  kind  nor  cool  ! 
I  thought  of  all  the  galling  shame 

That  she  so  lately  made  me  bear — 
I  thought  of  my  long-honored  name — 

And  of  the  friends  that  saw  her  there, 
And  passed  her  conduct  in  review — 
And  as  I  thought  my  anger  grew  ! 
Then  I  declared  she  should  not  be 
With  any  man  or  men  so  free  ; 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  93 

Betraying  all  my  holy  trust, 

Forgetful  of  her  marriage  vow, 
Trailing  my  honor  in.  the  dust, 

And  bringing  shame  upon  her  brow  !— 
Why  did  she  blush,  that  man  to  meet  ? 

I  asked.  How  did  she  dare  to  flirt  ? — 
With  levity  she  strove  to  treat 

The  matter,  giving  answer  pert. 
But  I  insisted  on  reply — 

Without  reply  I  would  not  go, 
And  though  she  then  began  to  cry, 

Where  she  had  met  that  man  I'd  know  ! 
[  said  she  should  not  pass  the  door 

Till  she  had  answered  me,  and  told 
Where  she  had  met  that  man  before  ! 

At  length — when  she  had  grown  less  bold — 
She  '  met  him  at  Sir  James's  ball, ' — 

Of  course,  she  did! — 'Where  else,  .beside?' — 
She  did  not  know. — '  Where  else  ? '  I  cried. 
And  then,  '  Ah  !  nowhere  else  at  all.' — 


94  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL, 

She  did  not  tell  the  truth,  I  know  ! 
I  said,  '  You've  told  a  lie,  I  fear  ! ' — 
I  waited  not  excuse  to  hear,! — 
From  bad  to  worse  thus  matters  go — 
My  anger  great ! — And  wider  grows 
The  breach  I  vainly  sought  to  close  ! 


JOHN  fERNINGHA&PS  JOURNAL.  95 


PART  III. 

AWAY  !  away  ! — across  the  sea  ! 

Away,  alone  ! — pursued  by  Care  ! 
Away  from  home,  if  home  it  be  ! — 

Far,  far  away  ! — no  matter  where  ! 

To  find  our  idols  made  of  clay  ! 

To  find  our  fondest  hopes  deceived  ! — 
She,  whom  I  thought  as  clear  as  day  ! 

She,  whom  I  trusted  and  believed  ! 

How  could  I  love  so  frail  a  thing  ! 

How  could  I  see  great  promise  there  !- 
The  more  the  hope  the  sharper  sting 

If  hope  gives  place  to  blank  despair  ! 


96  JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

One  wretched  day  when  I  returned 
That  Captain  by  her  side  I  found  ! 

My  righteous  anger  fiercely  burned  ! 
I  could  have  struck  him  to  the  ground  ! 


He  had  presumed  to  call  on  her, 
And  she  received  him,  though  alone, — 

I  vainly  hoped  she  would  defer 

To  me  ;  although  my  wish  was  known. 

Her  hair  was  hanging  all  astray — 
She  made  excuse,  she  '  was  asleep' — 

I  see  her  as  I  saw  that  day  ! — 
I  scarcely  could  my  temper  keep  ! 

I  said,  '  There  must  be  some  mistake' — 
I  strove  to  seem  polite  and  cool — 

'Calls  gentlemen  did  never  make 
When  I  was  out ' — for  such  our  rule. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  97 

Fitz-Maurice  tried  to  talk,  I  know, 
I  did  not  heed  him,  what  he  meant — 

I'd  have  no  words — I  bade  him  go — 
I  showed  the  door,  and  then  he  went. 


He  went !— and  there  my  erring  wife 
Confessed  the  many  wrongs  she'd  done. 

That  was  the  moment  in  my  life 
That  had  not  either  hope  or  sun ! 

For,  so  her  revelations  ran, 
Not  only  had  she  let  him  call, 

But  had  been  flirting  with  this  man 
Since  she  first  met  him  at  the  ball. — 


She  said,  she  wandered  out  alone 

The  day  that  followed  on  that  dance, 
Of  indoor  life  so  weary  grown — 

And  she  had  met  him  there  by  chance  ; 
5 


98  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 

Had  met  him  in  a  public  walk 
Where  she  had  unattended  gone ; 

Had  let  him  stay  with  her  and  talk — 
And  so  her  dreadful  tale  went  on. 


She  found  her  lonely  hours  were  dull — 
Was  glad  when  he  had  called  before- 
Some  tempting  pleasure  sought  to  cull— 
And  met  him  still,  outside  the  door. 


At  home,  alone,  she  could  not  stay, 
With  nothing  that  she  liked  to  do — 

Not  only  did  she  disobey, 

But  she  had  uttered  falsehood  too ; — 

Had  lied  to  me  from  fear,  she  said, 

Had  tried  before  to  tell  the  truth- 
She  did  not  like  the  days  she  led, 
She  wanted  pleasure  in  her  youth ; 


•JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  99 

And  must  gad  out,  arid  flirt,  and  chat — 

Such  was  her  happiness  in  life  ! — 
My  heart  stopped  beating  ! — Then,  was  that 

The  woman  I  had  made  my  wife  ! 


Was  that  my  beautiful  ideal 

Whom  I  had  worshipped,  loved,  believed  ! 
And  was  there  nothing  true  or  real, — 

Was  all  my  trusting  love  deceived ! 

My  blood  surged  back  ! — In  rage  and  pain 
Some  hurried,  angry  words  I  spoke  -f 

Said,  I  could  ne'er  believe  again, 
Or  trust  her — and  away  I  broke. 


With  bitter  thoughts  I  paced  my  room  ! 

I  knew  not  how  the  hours  went  past, 
Till  in  the  midst  of  darkest  gloom 

One  brighter  gleam  broke  in  at  last. 


ioo  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

I  would  away  ! — When  far  from  her 
I  might  again  be  strong  and  brave  ! — 

At  once  I  acted  on  the  spur 
This  sudden  resolution  gave. 


Our  house  had  ill  accounts  received 

From  Spain,  and  some  one  needs  must  go — 

I'd  take  the  duty  ! — I  believed 
It  would  divert  me  from  my  woe. 

To  office,  therefore,  down  I  went 
And  said  that  I  would  go  to  Spain — 

And  all  the  day  attention  lent 
While  this  affair  was  put  in  train. 

All  the  long  day,  through  business  hours, 

I  recognized  a  two-fold  mind, 
The  one  exerting  usual  pow'rs 

The  other  holding  back  behind, 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  101 

About  that  dreadful  tale  to  lurk  ! — 

Like  watch  on  rescued  body  found 
Which,  sympathetic,  stopped  its  work 

And  marks  the  time  the  man  was  drowned. 


So  it  had  stopped,  stopped  at  the  minute 
When  she  her  revelation  made, 

And  blankly  viewed  the  horrors  in  it, 
Nor  saw  a  chance  of  coming  aid. — 

I  felt  that  I  could  cry  aloud, 

Could  shout  till  all  the  city  heard ; 

That  I  could  tell  the  startled  crowd 
There  was  no  faith  in  human  word  ! 


No  trust  in  oath,  in  holiest  bond, 
No  surety  anywhere  on  earth  ! — 

That  they  must  look  this  world  beyond 
For  truth  and  honor,  faith  and  worth !- 


102  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S   JOURNAL. 

And  still  the  busy  day  sped  on, 
And  still  I  did  my  duty  there, 

And  wished  the  weary  hours  were  gone 
That  I  might  give  me  to  despair  ! — 


My  hope  is  lost,  my  life  is  wrecked  ! — 
I  strike  upon  a  hidden  rock 

Where  nought  of  danger  I  suspect — 
Nor  know  it  till  I  feel  the  shock  ! 


But  girls  when  trained  to  flirt,  and  catch 
The  wealthiest  man  that  takes  the  bait, 

Will,  after  they  have  made  the  match, 
Flirt  on  for  pastime,  tempting  fate. 


And  wives  who  love  not  ere  they  wed 
How  like  they  are  to  go  astray, 

To  be  by  each  false  light  misled, 
To  wander  from  the  safer  way. — 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS   JOURNAL.  103 

If  she  admires  a  dashing  beau 

How  could  she  wed  a  man  like  me  ? — 

If  time  for  us  once  more  might  flow 
I'd  keep  from  all  this  turmoil  free  ! 


104          JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 


A  letter  from  Sir  James,  to  say, 
They  take  my  wife  with  them  to  stay. 
Now  this  is  very  good  indeed ; 
This  is  a  friend,  a  friend  in  need  ! — 
It  has  removed  an  anxious  care 
To  know  that  she  is  sheltered  there  !- 
They  do  me  a  most  friendly  turn, 
For  I  so  hurriedly  took  flight 
I  left  it  all  to.  him  ! — I'll  write, 
And  thank  him  for  his  kind  concern. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  105 


Three  weary  months  !  Oh  !  who  shall  tell 

The  sickening  weight  of  woe  they  bore  ! 
The  constant  sense  of  loneliness, 

The  want  of  all  beheld  no  more, 
The  yearning  of  the  secret  soul 

That  shrank  from  every  scene  of  mirth, 
The  vacant  eye,  the  heedless  ear, 

The  aching  void,  the  bosom's  dearth  ! 

Three  long,  long  months,  and  day  by  day 
A  canker  preying  on  the  heart ! 

The  gnawing  tooth  of  memory, 

The  form  of  her  from  whom  I  part. 

Without — no  thing  but  beauty  there, 
Within- -a  sense  of  dreary  cold 

To  bind  each  happier  impulse  down, 

And  freeze  the  spirit  by  its  hold  ! 

5* 


106  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

Three  trailing  months  !  and  through  their  course 

This  changeless  load  of  care  and  gloom, 
This  living  death,  this  dying  life — 

The  festive  board  is  like  a  tomb, 
The  brightest  sunshine  seems  but  chill, 

A  murky  mist  the  lightest  air, 
The  bridal  peal  a  passing  knell, 

And  hope  itself  is  like  despair  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.         107 


I'm  back  again  !  I  wrote  to  say 
They  might  expect  me  back  to-day, 
And  that  I  hoped  my  wife  would  be 
Home  in  our  house  to  welcome  me. 
Oh,  how  I  longed  to  see  her  face  ! — 
And  how  I  dreaded,  too,  to  trace 
Some  sign  of  reticence  and  care 
To  doom  me  still  to  dark  despair — 
To  prove  I  had  a  rival  there  ? 

I  never  felt  such  qualms  before  ! 
I  hardly  dared  to  pass  the  door, 
And  when  I  saw  her  in  the  room 
I  was  afraid  to  meet  my  doom  ! — 
I  knew  not  what  to  say  or  do, 
I  did  not  venture  to  be  fond — 


xoS  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 

Oh  !  is  she  faithful  ?     Is  she  true  ? 
Or  must  I  evermore  despond? 

Like  simple  friends,  alas  !  we  met — 
She  did  not  seem  to  feel  regret, 
Nor  did  she  say  that  she  was  glad 
To  see  me  back — I  wish  she  had  ! — 
Some  slight  remark  about  the  train, 
And  we  were  silent  once  again. — 
She  scarcely  even  looked  at  me, 
And  then  she  poured  me  out  some  tea, 
And  then  we  spoke  of  Lady  Graeme — 
But  still  the  talk  reluctant  came ; 
For  she  was  frightened  and  constrained, 
And  I  was  sorely  grieved  and  pained. 


JOHN  JERNIN CHAM'S  JOURNAL. 


What  have  I  done  to  frighten  Rose  ? — 
She  must  have  thought  me  most  severe 

She  cannot  love  me  ! — All  she  shows 
Is  sad  restraint  and  childish  fear. 

I  was  half  mad  that  wretched  day  ! — 

I  feel  I  acted  much  amiss 
To  rush  so  savagely  away ; — 

I  know  not  how  to  tell  her  this  ! 


It  was  but  giddiness  and  youth 

Brought  that  about  which  made  me  go  !- 
I'm  now  convinced  she  spoke  the  truth, 

And  let  me  all  her  trespass  know. 


I ro  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 

In  her  sweet  eyes  there  dwells  a  look 

Of  almost  angel  innocence, 
I  read  her  soul  as  'twere  a  book : 

I  take  some  little  comfort  hence  j — 


The  wretched  man  that  drew  her  on, 
For  him,  at  least,  she  did  not  care — 

She  only  wanted  to  be  gone 
With  anybody,  anywhere. 

But  yet  her  conduct  was  not  nice, 

Nor  nice  the  fruit  from  seed  she's  sown  !- 

Sir  James  came  here  to  give  advice, — 
He'd  better  leave  the  thing  alone  ! 

He  undertook  to  lecture  me  ! 

And  told  me  to  amuse  my  wife, 
To  let  her  run  about  and  see 

The  Town,  and  lead  a  merry  life  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 

His  grand  array  I  strove  to  rout. 
But  still  he  would  the  attack  renew, 

And  so  at  last  I  turned  him  out — 
And  then  I  felt  more  sorry,  too  ! 


For  he  and  I  were  firmest  friends, 
Now,  also,  I  am  in  his  debt. — 

I  know  not  how  to  make  amends — 
I  scarcely  can  forgive  him  yet ! 

How  could  he  come  and  dare  advise, 
And  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  do  ! 

My  wife's  behavior  criticise, 

And  preach  about  her  beauty  too  ! 

How  dare  he  tell  me  she  is  vain, — 
And  my  unkindness  then  infer, 

And  say  her  love  I  should  retain 
If  I  would  stoop  to  flatter  her  ! — 


112  JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 

I  found  my  wife  was  seated  there  ! — 
This  makes  the  matter  quite  absurd  ! — 

Rosa  was  resting  in  a  chair 

And  all  this  conversation  heard  ! 


But  people  have  a  right  to  prate, 
And  we  must  be  content  to  hear — 

O  !  how  the  whole  affair  I  hate 

That  makes  them  talk  and  interfere  ! 


That  made  me  rush  away  to  Spain, 
And  my  poor  wife  afraid  of  me  ; 

And  keeps  us  when  I  come  again 
As  distant  as  we  well  can  be. 


Her  father  forced  from  her — consent, 
But  could  not  force  her  feelings  too  !- 

And  bitterly  must  I  repent 
That  he  my  hasty  offer  drew  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  113 

I  felt  convinced  he  sounded  me  :  — 
But  when  our  motives  pure  we  know, 

From  dread  too  nice  we  might  be  free, 
And  trust  to  time  oiir  truth  to  show. 


His  was  a  most  unworthy  part — 
To  sacrifice  his  daughter's  life, 

To  give  her  hand  without  a  heart, 
And  make  her  in  but  name  a  wife ! 


Yet  if  for  much  of  love  you  plead, 
The  world  will  talk  about  romance — 

Position  is  the  thing  to  heed  ; 

Affection — that  may  come  by  chance. 


Love-matches — they  are  held  in  scorn ! 

The  best  that  offers  you  should  take  ! 
And  some  poor  daughters  seem  but  born 

To  try  a  wealthy  match  to  make  ! 


114          JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 


.Poor  Rosa  spoke  to  me  to-night 

And  said  she  wishes  to  do  right, 

And  she  desires  to  please  me  too, 

If  I  will  tell  her  what  to  do. 

I  do  believe  she  seeks  the  good — 

I  said  I'd  help  her  if  I  could — 

But  while  my  hopes  were  springing  up, 

She  quickly  dashed  away  the  cup ! 

For  having  seriously  begun, 

Off  at  a  tangent  she  must  run, 

And  talk  such  nonsense  with  such  glee, 

I  found  she'd  made  a  fool  of  me  ! 

She  had  the  shocking  taste  to  say 

There  is  in  doing  wrong  a  charm — 
She  makes  me  wonder  every  day 

She  has  not  come  to  greater  harm  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  115 

She  is  so  giddy  and  so  vain, 

From  comment  I  could  not  refrain. — 

She  refuge  in  her  beauty  took, 

And  tried  to  conquer  by  a  look ; 

This  made  me  say  in  angry  tone 

I  did  not  care  for  looks  alone, 

She  might  as  well  cast  pearls  to  swine 

As  angle  thus  for  love  of  mine  ; 

For  looks  give  promise,  which  she  breaks — 

And  still  by  looks  again  re-makes. 

How  cruel  was  the  wrong  she  did, 

Pretending  love  she  could  not  feel ; 
Down  in  my  soul  the  wound  lies  hid, 

Too  deep,  alas  !  for  time  to  heal ! 


n6          JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 


I  danced  with  her  to-night — a  waltz — 

A  foolish  thing  it  was  to  do, 
It  made  me  feel  how  poor  and  false 

The  life  we  lead ;  for  as  I  flew 
Around  with  Rosa  in  my  arms, 

The  creature  whom  I  love  so  much, 
Her  happy  smiles,  her  youthful  charms, 

The  gay  delight  of  step  and  touch 
Bewildered  me,  and  made  the  measure 

A  most  enthralling,  maddening  pleasure  ! 

Of  course,  it  is  not  etiquette — 

One's  own  dear  wife — I  know  'twas  wrong 
To  dance  with  Rose  to-night — but  yet 

Excuses  which  I  make  are  strong. — 


JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL.  117 

A  ball  there  was  at  Mrs.  Payne's 

And  I  had  taken  Rosa  there, 
For  gladly  would  I  make  the  chains 

Less  heavy,  which  my  wife  must  wear  ; — 
And  as  she  loves  to  gad  about 
I  feel  I  ought  to  take  her  out. 

A  waltz  was  forming,  and  the  band 

Struck  up  a  most  inviting  strain — 
A  doorway  watching  as  I  stand, 

I  see  her  enter  there  again  ; 
And  with  her  comes  the  empty  fop 

With  whom  she  vexed  me  much  before, 
And  by  his  side  she  would  not  stop, 

She  left  him  just  within  the  door. 
He  sought  to  lead  her  to  the  dance, 

But  she  repulsed  his  vain  advance. 

She  left  him  and  she  crossed  to  me, 
Upon  my  arm  she  placed  her  hand, 


n8  JOHN  JERNINGHARTS  JOURNAL. 

And  I  was  pleased  at  this  degree 

Of  wifely  trust — and  half  unmanned, — 

And  knowing  how  she  loves  the  dance, 
I  put  my  arm  about  her  waist, 

And  mid  the  couples  we  advance. — 
I  did  it  thoughtlessly,  in  haste  ; 

'Twas  very  foolish  on  my  part, 

It  woke  such  longing  in  my  heart ! 


The  waltz  itself  it  was  not  bad  ; 

To  dance  with  her  was  best  of  all, 
She  looked  so  happy  and  so  glad, 

She  thought  it  an  enchanting  ball ! — 
What  ecstasy  I  felt  to-night ! 

To  dance  with  Rosa  is  delightful ! 
Though  some  might  wonder  at  the  sight, 

And  that  poor  man  be  vexed  and  spiteful 
To  see  her  pleased  though  she  discards 
Captain  Fitz-Maurice,  of  the  Guards. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAMS    JOURNAL  119 


Dear  Rosa  twitted  me  to-day 

With  my  performance  at  the  ball; 
And,  in  reply,  what  could  I  say  ? 

I  scarce  could  answer  her  at  all ! — 
She  does  not  love,  and  cannot  know 

Of  inly-bleeding  wounds,  the  woe  ! — 
My  disappointed  life  drags  on  ; 

A  breathing  image  at  its  side  ! 
My  early  hope  of  joy  is  gone — 

A  faultless  statue  for  a  bride  ! — 
One  look  of  love  that  beamed  on  me 

Would  better  than  all  beauty  be  ! 


120          JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 


One  time  I  was  informed  by  Rose — 

To  some  extent  I  own  'tis  tnie — 
That  if  to  marry  her  I  chose, 

I  ought  to  make  her  happy  too. — 
We've  nought  in  common  in  our  lives, 

Our  tastes  and  interests  never  blend  ! 
I've  ordered  broughams  for  her  drives, 

Unless  she  goes  with  some  kind  friend, 
For  I  am  many  hours  away 
And  she  is  lonely  in  the  day. 
She,  in  herself,  has  few  resources, 

Nothing  to  occupy  her  mind. — 
If  girls  went  through  severer  courses 

Of  study,  would  it  leave  behind 
A  something  to  fall  back  upon  ? 

A  love  of  deep  and  earnest  books, 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  121 

Now  that  the  old  regime  is  gone 
Which  made  them — housewives,  doctors,  cooks  ? — 
She  has  so  little  but  her  beauty  ! 

I  scarcely  know  what  I  can  do — 
I'm  anxious  to  perform  my  duty — 

I'd  '  make  her  happy'  if  I  knew  ! 
But  she  is  frightened  !  I  was  hard 

And  harsh  with  her  ! — so  said  Sir  James. 
I've  latterly  been  on  my  guard. 

I  fully  recognise  her  claims. — 
It  was  before  I  went  to  Spain  ; 
If  those  dark  days  came  once  again 
I  would  be  gentler  !    She  should  see 

Her  faults  and  her  I  separate  ; 
But  she  has  grown  afraid  of  me — 

My  good  intentions  come  too  late  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL. 


Able  to  hold  a  pen  once  more  ! — 
But  many  months  have  passed  away 

Since  I  an  entry  made  before, 

And  now  how  much  I  have  to  say  ! 

And  all  I  say  is  glad  and  bright, 

For  all  the  wrong  has  turned  to  right ! 

I  well  remember  that  sad  life 

When  Rose  and  I  were  kept  apart, 

But  now  my  loving  little  wife 

Is  one  with  me  in  nand  and  heart ! 

I've  won  my  wife  ! — I  know  not  how  !— 

But  nothing's  sad  or  gloomy  now  ! 

There  was  a  weary  time  of  pain 
And  heavily  the  days  went  by, 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.          123 

I  seemed  to  doze  and  wake  again, 

And  lay  in  bed  I  knew  not  why ; — 
At  times  I  did  not  know  or  care 
What  happened  then,  or  who  was  there. 


Until  one  evening  I  awoke 

And  saw  dear  Rosa  near  the  bed. 

I  gazed  upon  the  sun,  and  spoke, 
Remarking  it  was  very  red. 

And  then  she  came  and  looked  at  me, 

And  something,  when  she  looks,  I  see ! 


What  was  it  in  her  glorious  eyes 
Had  taken  up  its  residence  ? — 

It  filled  me,  first,  with  strange  surprise, 
And  then,  with  happiness  intense, 

For  while  I  looked  I  read  aright— - 

'Twas  love  for  me  that  gave  their  light ! 


124          JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 

Oh  !  happy  days  in  my  sick  room 

When  this  glad  news  had  been  received  ! 

It  banished  care,  it  banished  gloom — 
In  pain  itself  I  scarce  believed, 

For  I  could  think  of  nothing  then 

But  love — that  came  I  know  not  when  ! 


And  oh  !  the  rapture  of  the  kiss 

She  laid  upon  my  thirsty  lips  ! 
It  was  the  essence  of  all  bliss, 

It  tingled  to  my  finger-tips ! — 
Its  taste  from  hope  it  did  not  borrow, 
For  it  was  joy  come  out  of  sorrow  ! 

And  then  she  told  me  all  the  tale, 
That  I  had  long  been  very  ill — 

And  still  her  fears  for  me  prevail, 
She  says  I  must  be  careful  still — 

And  when  they  brought  me  home,  she  said, 

At  first  the  doctors  thought  me  dead. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S   JOURNAL.          125 

And  now  she  will  not  let  me  talk — 

She  always  liked  to  talk  to  me  ! — 
And  when  I  first  essayed  to  walk, 

My  efforts  she  was  scared  to  see. — 
She  strives  to  be  the  sternest  nurse 
That  ever  made  a  patient  worse  ! 

I  love  the  serious,  sober  way 
In  which  she  would  command  assume, 

I  love  her  simple  dress  of  grey 

WTiich  does  not  rustle  in  the  room. 

But  to  be  stern  ! — she  cannot  do  it ! 

Her  gentleness  comes  smiling  through  it ! 

They  tell  me — but  all  that  I  knew — 
When  passing  by,  in  neighboring  street, 

A  child  had  fallen,  and  I  flew 

To  save  him  from  the  horses'  feet. 

This  I  remembered  very  well, 

And  one  thing  more  they  could  not  tell. 


126          JOHN  JERNINGHAAPS   JOURNAL. 

That  when  on  level  of  my  eyes 
Those  horses'  ugly  hoofs  I  see 

Immense  ones  are  they,  thrice  the  size 
Of  any  hoofs  beheld  by  me  ! 

Some  reason  for  the  fact  I  sought, 

And  this  became  my  latest  thought. 

Then  was  a  time  not  all  a  blank, 
For  I  was  conscious  of  distress  ; 

From  movement  and  from  noise  I  shrank, 
I  suffered  dreadful  weariness, 

But  scarcely  knew  what  passed  around — 

Or  how  I  got  from  off  the  ground. 

That  dancing  paper  on  the  wall — 
I  think  that  paper  I'll  remove — 

I  could  not  add  it  up  at  all, 
Or  if  I  did  it  would  not  prove  1 

I  hate  a  pattern  which  will  go 

Diagonally  to  and  fro  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.  127 

A  clock  there  was  that  struck  the  hour, 
And  seemed  to  strike  them  all  the  same, 

And,  somehow,  had  a  sort  of  pow'r 

To  make  them  strike  a  person's  name. — 

That  name  in  one  sweet  cadence  fell, 

And  it  was  always — Rosa  Bell. 

From  all  these  troubles,  vague  and  true, 

I  woke  to  find  dear  Rosa  mine  ! — 
And  were  the  thing  again  to  do 

I'd  do  it,  and  would  not  repine ! 
Better  the  sickness  o'er  and  o'er, 
Than  lead  the  life  we  led  before  ! 


128  JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL. 


I  told  my  darling  wife  to-day 

Of  all  the  trouble  and  the  pain 
In  that  dark  time,  now  far  away, 

When  love  could  find  no  love  again ; — 
Of  all  those  hard  and  bitter  days, 
When  we  were  pulling  different  ways ; 
And  all  my  grief,  long  unassuaged, 
And  the  internal  war  that  raged 
Taking  my  heart  for  battle-ground 
And  leaving  harder  than  it  found. — 
She  looked  at  me  with  loving  eyes, 

But  in  those  eyes  were  tears  as  well, 
And  more  of  sorrow  than  surprise ; 

I  kissed  the  tears  before  they  fell ! — 
What  joy  when  undivided  life 
Is  led  by  loving  man  and  wife  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAAfS    JOURNAL.          129 


At  work  again,  and  well  and  strong, 
And  happy  as  the  day  is  long  ! — 
And  rather  long  it  seemed  at  first 

To  be  away  from  dearest  Rose, 
I'd  been  so  petted  and  so  nursed — 

But  men  must  work — for  so  it  goes, 
And  even  with  my  charming  wife 
I  should  not  like  an  idle  life. 

Some  pleasant  drives  were  those  we  had- 
And  Rose  admired  my  appetite  ! 

One's  convalescence  is  not  bad 

With  all  around  you  gay  and  bright. 

This  joyful  thing,  too,  happened  there — 

Sir  James  came  up  to  speak  to  me 
6* 


i3o          JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL, 

When  I  was  propped  in  easy  chair; — 
He  said  he  was  quite  glad  to  see 

That  I  was  getting  round  at  last — 

And  thus  our  little  feud  blew  past ; 

He  shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand — 
We  both  regretted  friendship  broken, 

And  each  could  other  understand 
As  if  a  thousand  words  were  spoken. 


The  Medico,  with  solemn  look, 
Said,  he  must  give  me  to  the  cook. 
Why  will  some  stupid  men  refuse 
With  cheerful  air  to  tell  good  news  ? 
One  would  have  thought  the  undertaker 
Was  hinted  at,  and  not  the  baker  ! 

Dear  Rosa  read  aloud  to  me — 

The  City  article,  and  stocks 
She  would  attempt,  but  I  could  see 

She  knows  far  more  of  gowns  and  frocks. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  131 

But  sometimes,  though,  she'd  rather  chat, 
And  I  did  not  object  to  that, 
And  learned  to  understand  her  ways 
Much  better  than  in  former  days. 


My  wife  has  taken  to  her  books, 
And  works  with  energy  and  zeal ; 

I  must  not  have  her  spoil  her  looks, 
Nor  let  her  work  her  roses  steal. 

Her  studies  may  be  very  well. 

But  on  her  health  they  must  not  tell. 


I  took  her  home  some  pretty  birds 

And  much  attached  to  them  she  grew ; 

She  talks  to  them  in  broken  words 
And  they  chirp  back  as  if  they  knew  ! 

I  find  she's  very  fond  of  pets — 

Great  pleasure  from  the  things  she  gets.  - 


I32         JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S   JOURNAL. 

She  told  me  she  had  felt  it  hard 
To  leave  the  country,  and  the  air, 

We've  made  a  garden  in  the  yard — 
I  doubt  if  it  will  flourish  there  ; 

She's  proud  enough,  though,  of  her  flow'rs — 

And  then  she  has  such  lonely  hours  ! 

What  made  her  love  me  ?     Who  can  tell ! — 

It  is  a  source  of  wonder  still ! 
She  could  not  love  when  I  was  well 

And  grew  to  love  when  I  was  ill. 
What  could  it  be  ? — I  cannot  think  ! 
And  yet  from  asking  her  I  shrink. 

What  made  her  love  me  ?— Can  it  be 
Her  love  was  by  my  love  begot  ? 

Could  it  be  anything  in  me  ? 

Or  good  in  her  ?     What  was  it !     Wha«  ' — 

Whate'er  it  was,  I'm  happy  so, 

And  need  not  greatly  care  to  know  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.          133 


The  birds  and  flowers  are  in  danger  ! — 
By  an  expected  little  stranger 
Who  some  fine  morning  comes  to  town 
They'll  find  themselves  at  once  put  down  !- 

Of  Rose  I  take  the  greatest  care, 

She  must  have  exercise  and  air ; 

Dear  Lady  Graeme  is  very  nice 

And  gives  her  matronly  advice. — 

I  think  I'll  hide  her  books  away 

And  bring  them  out  some  other  day — 

Yes,  I  must  see  to  that  indeed, 

I  cannot  let  dear  Rosa  read, — 

But  yet  we  must  not  rashly  thwart  her. — 

And  will  it  be  a  son,  or  daughter  ? 


134          JOHN  JERNINGHAATS  JOURNAL. 


When  Rosa  took  to  loving  me 

I'm  sure  we  then  were  both  agreed 
No  greater  happiness  could  be 

And  that  of  nought  beside  we'd  need. 
But  now  we  very  plainly  see 

We  then  were  only  half  content 
And  what  we  wanted,  we  agree, 

Was  but  the  baby  that  is  sent. 

To  Rose  she  is  a  new-found  toy, 
And  Rose  is  once  again  a  child  ! — 

She  would  have  rather  had  a  boy 
She  said, — but  then  the  baby  smiled, 

Or  if  she  did  not  smile  we  took 

For  smiling  that  most  funny  look — 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM^S  JOURNAL.         135 

And  I  am  sure  Rose  would  not  change  her 
For  any  other  little  stranger  ! 

She  is  to  me  a  droll  set  out ! 

I  scarcely  know  what  I'm  about 

When  her  fond  mother  makes  me  '  take  her,' — 

I'd  almost  rather  'take'  a  pill, 
For  fear  to  pieces  I  should  shake  her, 

Or  do  her  some  tremendous  ill ! 


136  JOHN  JERNIN  CHAM'S  JOURXAL. 


What  great  responsibilities 

Attach  to  this  my  new  condition  ! 
I  look  with  due  civilities 
On  'Woman's  Rights,'  and  'Woman's  Mission  ;' 

And  'Women's  Property;'  and  laws 
For  giving  them  consideration  ; — 

There  surely  ought  to  be  a  clause 

That  they  should  govern  all  the  nation  ! 

For  women  always  govern  men ; 

And  then,  beside, — we  have  a  queen  ; 
And — lady-doctors,  too ;  and  then, — 

We  know  that  women's  wits  are  keen. 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  137 

And  now  they're  all  to  be  so  skilled, 

Boys  will  be  beaten  by  a  head  ! — 
But,  in  whatever  they  are  drilled, 

Pray  teach  them  this  before  they  wed  : — 


That  loveless  marriage  is  a  crime, 
That  flirting  is  a  'false  pretence? — 

This  is  the  evil  of  the  time ; 

And  rank  the  crops  that  spring  up  hence. 

Now  that  I  own  a  little  daughter, 
How  can  I  tell  what  lies  in  store  ? 

How  many  lovers  she  may  slaughter — 
And  then  turn  round  and  ask  for  more  ! 


No  !  she  shall  be  sincere  and  true, 
And  like  her  mother  as  she  grows, 

But  better  trained,  and  taught  to  do 
Not  quite  the  same  as  did  dear  Rose. 


138  JOHN  JERNINGHARrS  JOURNAL. 

For  though  at  last  it  turned  out  well, 
And  she  her  husband  learnt  to  love, 

It  was  a  chance  ! — No  Major  Bell 
Shall  train  this  pretty  nestling  dove. 


The  system  surely  has  been  shaped 
To  lead  to  misery  and  sin ! 

I  feel  I  narrowly  escaped 

A  quagmire  sucking  many  in. 


That  time  of  agony  in  Spain  ? — 

Though  smooth  at  last  the  troubled  water 
Those  stormy  days  must  still  remain, — 

Her  work  not  such,  my  little  daughter  ! 

No  ;  though  I  may  be  much  derided, 
I'll  have  my  way  with  this,  my  own, 

And  on  one  point  I  am  decided — 
My  babe  shall  wed  for  love  alone  ! 


JOHN  JERNINGHAM'S  JOURNAL.  139 

Nor  shall  this  second  Rosa  be 

A  flirt,  Avhatever  else  they  make  her  ! 

Rather  than  have  her  that,  I'd  see — 
The  baby-farmer  come  and  take  her  ! 

We  will  not  care  for  gain  and  greed, 

Though  sought  by  greatest  in  the  land  ! — 

But,  as  her  inclinations  lead 

So  goes  my  little  daughter's  hand  ! 

We  have  authority  for  this — 

And  let  us  copy  from  above ; — 
And  may  that  marriage  end  in  bliss, 

The  fruit  alone  of  mutual  love  ! 


